


I Know How This Ends

by TeamAroPickle



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Interspecies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamAroPickle/pseuds/TeamAroPickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Earth(future) has been going down the path of destruction for years and had reached a point where many orphaned children now walk the streets. A horde of kids now reside in an abandoned library where they all live as family. But, when Raven gets thrown, quite literally, into her favorite book, with Gwen following soon after, how will they both manage the relationships they have built in both our world and in MiddleEarth? Dwarves are usually distrusting anyway- how are they to trust such strange girls and their even stranger story?<br/>*Summary is not the best*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sucked In

I had been sitting there reading when my hands started to tremble. The stacks and stacks of books around me started to spin and the book left my fingers in a rustle of the fabric binding sliding over the ridges of skin that laced the tops and sides of my fingers. I could hear it distinctly hit the ground. It met the old wood with a little bump and a chorus of fresh, crisp paper bending and creasing under the weight and awkward position it now held. If I wasn't a bit preoccupied by the phenomenon that was happening in my head I would have immediately bent over to pick the book off the ground like you would help a friend if they had fallen. But I couldn't, as soon as the room had stopped spinning there was an odd sensation in my hands, and feet, and soon every surface in my entire body until I could literally see it. I could actually _see_ the feeling.

If I were to describe this feeling I would describe it as wet. Like the quick dots of rain that fall on your arms, or that prickly feeling you get in certain parts of your body if you sit strangely and starve that particular appendage of blood flow. I began to suffocate me and engulf everything. Soon blackness started to drip into my vision, like ink on paper, as time went on and I just sat there helpless. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. My mouth was starting to fill up.

I was then falling.

Falling, not far, straight down until I abruptly met the ground with my side. The feeling of drowning had, mercifully, stopped but now I was in a coma state.

I was blind to everything and it was terrifying.

A few hours passed, or so it felt like when I started to drift off, despite my best intentions.

* * *

Dwarves were swarming everywhere.

Every which way you could possibly think of, there was a dwarf going in that direction-most assuredly with food or ale.

Gandalf tried counting them only to come up with the realization that they were one short. Dwalin, of course, assured him that he was just late having just come from a meeting.

Gandalf grumbled a bit, not liking that the leader of the company hadn't shown yet. Dwalin's seemingly comfortable explanation aside.

Gandalf really didn't know why he was worried about whether or not Thorin would show up. He knew of Thorin's drive and loyalty to those who were loyal to him.

Thorin was set on reclaiming him homeland after all these years and there wasn't anyone who was going to stop him. After all, what was rightfully his and his peoples was stolen. Why wouldn't you fight for it?

Although, there are those who would not deem this quest as a wise decision. For, even though, Thorin feels he is answerable to nobody, that may not be entirely true. Even for such a personal quest that shouldn't necessarily effect too many others seems relatively harmless, this journey could set in motion unseeable futures and, quite possibly, unseeable evils.

Gandalf knew Thorin would show up- in due time.

* * *

Thorin was on his last nerve. He had been up and down the hill and he had been down by the water and had even ended up in some deep woods that were nowhere near where he was supposed to be.

The wizard had said that this place would be easy to find. But, Thorin was finding that to be quite the lie.

If getting lost so many damn times hadn't been infuriating enough it had started to rain. Not in light little droplets where you could just start to smell the light haze of the grass.

No.

This was thunderous, pouring rain and beat you into the ground and left your skin stinging. This was the type of rain that tapped on the top of your head so hard that you could hear it echo throughout your skull.

Needless to say, Thorin wasn't a fan.

Just when he was about to give in to the degrading option of knocking on someone's door and asking directions, in the process probably scaring a family of halflings near to death, he spotted a little shine of light.

It was in the shape of a dwarvish rune. It was one that wasn't commonly used in the trade much anymore, but it was akin to saying: "Burglar wants a good job, plenty of excitement, and reasonable reward"

Obviously, this was the door. It was also the door that Thorin had past around five times.

How he had missed the marking that was in his own native language he will never know, but, hobbling up the well-worn path once again he made his way to the door.

He was just about to pound his fist onto the green wood when another thing caught his attention.

A murmur escaped from the grass about ten feet away from where he stood. He suspiciously looked over to where the noise came from and barely made out the faint outline of a bundle in some low laying grass, in a place that was just out of range of the soft yellow light given off my the candle lamps hanging from the mossy roof.

So being like the average dwarf, who were so untrusting to the point of stupidity, Thorin made his way over to the bundle- thinking, most likely, that it was a spy sent to find out his plans of a quest.

To his surprise the little bundle was a person, and as he grasped said person's arm he saw that it was a girl.

Her hair was plastered in thick strands across her cheek and neck where the rain had pasted it on. Besides being soaking wet she was also covered in little bits of grass that had stuck to her as well.

She wasn't thick-limbed nor did she have very much hair on her so she obviously wasn't a hobbit or a dwarf. Immediately Thorins brain jumped to the most obvious, for him, conclusion.

Also, she was clad in the strangest clothing Thorin had ever laid eyes on and he was having the hardest time identifying what the fabric was.

" _Probably some Elvish craft",_ he thought.

He was almost contemplating leaving the Elvish filth there, despite her being a female, when she let out a moan and her breath could be seen in the air.

Thorin could feel her shaking under his hands as he knelt beside her. He leaned over and he could see his breath as the temperature of the air around them grew impossibly colder. Thorin watched as her eyebrows furrow in discomfort and it was then he made his decision.

Gritting his teeth against the thought of having to touch an elf, he easily picked up her small form bridal style and walked the few steps to the door and kicked it with his foot loudly.

Gandalf came to the door with a wide and relieved smile on his face, which quickly disappeared as he saw what Thorin was carrying.

A curious furrow graced his bushy brows as he tried to make something out of the situation while he shushed them in.

All the other dwarfs had quickly got up to greet their king and friend, but when they arrived at the entryway all they could see was a very soggy Thorin carrying what looked to be a even soggier elf girl.

The view didn't last long for Gandalf told them to go and sit down, except for Balin, whom Gandalf thought could be of assistance at the moment.

Thorin had set down the girl on a large writing desk in which he had cleared by swooping his large arm over the surface. Knocking over every little thing in the process.

This flustered an already ruffled Bilbo, but he said nothing. He had been a decent host so far and the night only getting stranger, but he would be damned if he cracked now. Even in the presence of an albeit, drenched king of dwarves.


	2. The Unexpected Arrival

I was starting to come to when I heard a conversation going on over my head. 

There were four voices, all were male but one was higher pitched, one was booming and deep, and the other two were pretty grandfatherly.

“Well, she isn’t an elf. That much we can tell from the ears,” one of the grandfatherly voices said from my right side, not that far from me. 

There was a low grumble from above my head.

“Thorin, tell me again what happened…?” the other older voice said from high up, almost at the ceiling.

A booming, thunderous voice echoed out directly above my head, “I have told you already, I found her laying in the grass, just not but a few strides from the door.”

“Hmm.”

“Are those scars?” the higher pitched voice threw in.

“Yes, she seems to be riddled with them…look, all up and down her arms.” the lower voice gruffed out.

I soon felt a very large hand gently tracing the bumpy surface of my upper arm. I usually didn’t mind people touching me, mostly out of trying not to be rude when shying away, but this touch was a little unnerving. I kept getting chills. But that was most likely because of the rain and draft.

Who were these people? And who are all the others?

I could hear a symphony of quiet laughter and the clanking of plates, but above all else I could hear the low murmur of many gossiping voices where I could pick up a few reoccurring words: girl, elf, and some name that began with a “T”.

Another chill ran through me and I think I might have twitched too obviously this time because the hypnotic touch had finally ceased and the warmth had abruptly ended. I resisted the urge to shiver at the loss as I came to terms with the inevitable. 

There was no point in hiding anymore.

I shot my eyes open, only to come face to face with a dark, short-bearded man who had many loose ringlets of damp hair hanging around his worn face. Intermixed in his hair where streaks of silver, but none of those things are what I noticed first.

It was his eyes; they were a piercing blue.

I could tell that he was older and had seen quite a few obstacles, but his eyes looked as if they belonged to someone much younger and less troubled. He looked very concerned at the moment as his thick brows were gathered up while looking down at me. 

Like his tracing of my arm had been, the staring was making me increasingly uncomfortable. I sat up and quickly slid off the table and onto my feet. 

I was shocked to find that practically everyone in the room was either a little taller than me, with the exception of a tiny childlike figure who was almost half my size.

Although, this was excluding the very tall man with the silver beard who could tower over just about anyone I imagine.

Then something happened.

It all came crashing down on me at once, the moment I saw that tall man, and I knew within seconds where I was. It was all too clear now.

The book I had been reading had been, of course, one of my all time favorites, The Hobbit. It seems that by some stroke of magic I had somehow ended up _in_ the book. In Middle Earth.

Although, I suppose, ‘magic’ isn’t all that farfetched in Middle Earth.

In my shock I had backed up into a bookshelf and slid down until I was sitting once more, with both my hands bracing my weight at my sides.

Did I have a stroke or was this was some sort of coma dream that my mind had concocted? Was I dead?

“My lady, do you know where you are?” The tall one said.

“I think I have a fairly good idea…” I whispered; my eyes glued to the view of the tiled brick floor that was only interrupted by a few pairs of boots and the nearby legs of the wooden table.

They all gazed at me strangely and traded looks amongst themselves.

The older shorter one stepped a little closer towards me but when I flinched back towards the wall slightly, he stopped.

“Now, lass, none of us are going to hurt you now. You have my word,” he said with a little smile. 

 _Balin..._  

I gave him a little faint smile, not being able to fight it as I thought back to how good of a dwarf he had always been, “I-I’m not…afraid of _you_ …exactly…”

I looked back down and my smile disappeared. There was silence again until the wizard spoke out.

“Ah, well, let me introduce myself and my friends here. I a-“

“Gandalf,” I said, “Balin, and Thorin too. With Nori, Ori, Dori, Bofur, Bifur, Bombur, Gloin, Oin, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili in the other room. Yes, I know.” By this point I was breathing heavily and was starting to panic a little, as if saying all their names made it even more real.

There was a little insulted “mhph” that came from behind Balin and I calmed my breathing down just enough to crane my neck forward.

As soon as I saw him I only wanted to laugh. I had always envisioned Bilbo in my head as looking very stout and fairly old. But, as I looked at _this_ Bilbo, I realized, he couldn’t have looked any different. The same went for Balin, Thorin, Gandalf and probably the rest of the dwarves too. They had all looked so different in my minds eye that now that I had seen them I felt a little silly at just how off base my predictions had been. 

 The comical inside joke I found myself in calmed me down considerably and I gave Bilbo a tired smile.

 “Don’t think I have forgot about you, Bilbo.”

His eyes widened a fraction and his brows furrowed up in the most amusing expression.

 Suddenly there was a sizable sounding crash in the direction of where I had heard the rest of the dwarves eating. The ruckus distracted Balin, Bilbo, and Gandalf enough that they went to go see, immediately, what had happened. I looked on after them as they rushed out the room.

 By now the entire house was filled with commotion and part of me really wanted to get up and see it but I was a little weak in the knees and in a slight daze. Although, even in such a state, it didn’t take me all long to remember that I hadn’t seen Thorin’s boots pass my gaze yet.

 I sharply turned my head to where I last remember him standing and I found that he had moved only about a foot closer to me, on the side closest to the wall that the bookshelf I was leaning against rested on.

He wasn’t looking at me, thankfully, but as soon as I made a move to get up and see what had happened his angry blue gaze fell on me.

 “Don’t move.” he said threateningly.

 “I know dwarves aren’t trusting but-“

 “What would you know of it?” he shot back haughtily

 A little yelp that I recognized very well came from around the corner, where all the others had gathered about a minute ago. This immediately willed my legs to move and my head to clear. I moved my arm so that my palm could rest on the shelves behind me and I pushed myself up into the standing position.

 I thought I could vaguely hear Thorin growl out another warning for me to stay put but I wasn’t going to take orders from him. I didn’t care if he was the “King Under The Mountain” he wasn’t _my_ king and one of the more prominent things that I remember from the book is that Thorin was a bit of an ass in the beginning of the story anyway.

 So, as my little “sister” would always say after she had watched too much inappropriate television, “He could just suck it.”

 With those “inspiring” words in my mind I lurched forward and stumbled around the corner coming into the candlelight that was situated around a large wooden dinning table, which was laden with food.

 Everyone stopped as soon as I came into view and it caused the hoodie clad figure who had seemed to have fallen right in the middle of the dwarves dinner and was perched in the midst of broken and dirtied plates, to turn around and look my way. 

“Raven?”

I let out a breath that I hadn’t even known I had been holding when I heard her voice. Suddenly I didn’t feel so alone.

A rough hand grasped onto my upper arm with a rustle of cold chainmail. Thorin had caught up to me in the few seconds that had passed and was now more suspicious than ever with the new arrival of my friend.

“Don’t touch her!” my close friend shouted, already making her way off the table and towards Thorin and, in the process, scattering copious amounts of food and silverware across the tiles.

“It’s okay, Gwen. You know how thick-headed Thorin always was.” I said trying shaking off Thorins hand while holding my other palm up to her. 

She stopped dead in her tracks, as did everyone else.

I probably shouldn’t have been so offhand about the situation. This was, in fact, bizarre and terrifying. But, I have always recognized a flaw in me that was puzzling. I treated things that scared me with flippantness and kind of shrugged them off as if they were no big deal. It was a type of coping mechanism, I suppose. It made miscommunications of my feelings frequent, unfortunately. 

“Thorin…?” Gwen said with her eyebrow cocked in a, what I always teasingly called the “Spock Brow”.

I slowly nodded and gestured to Thorin, who was still holding me.

The revelation was making its way down her features and you could see her working out all the little equations in her head. It was true that the improbability of falling into your book in an _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_ or _The Pagemaster_ kind of way was not even conceivable but, we were writers so I think it is safe to say we were both notably less “freaked” then anyone else would be.

Still, with that being said, she still wasn’t buying it- even if I had.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she said with a slight chuckle, “No.”

I knew exactly what would convince her. Actually, I knew the _two_ things that would convince her.

Pointing up towards where Gandalf’s’ calculating face was hovering and down where Bilbo was hiding, which was behind Gandalf’s grey robes, I gave her all the evidence she needed.

That was, of course, is what did it. Raising both her hands up to her mouth, she spun around slowly in the direction of the destroyed feast and the bewildered dwarvish company.

“Oh my God, it _is_ you.”


End file.
